


A Team Effort

by merae2888



Series: Better Together [9]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, JUST KISS ALREADY, Love Realization, here's a fic to tide us over until it actually happens on screen, these two are such idiots what's taking so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: A little fic about how our favorite delinquent sky boys get Bellamy to finally kiss Clarke!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post on my Tumblr, @merae2888, about how I wanted the dropship boys to tease Bellamy about his feelings for Clarke. 
> 
> Now here's a fic I wrote about it.

Every grounder clan they’ve ever encountered has tried to kill them. 

So, when they cross through the mountain range and unwittingly walk smack dab into the middle of an unknown grounder village, the Skypeople pull out their guns before they are even spotted.

The first people that notice them just stare, looks of awe and reverence on their faces. 

“Skaikru,” says a small child wonderingly, pointing at the emblem on Bellamy’s Ark jacket. 

At that one whispered word, everyone kneels before them. Bellamy keeps his gun raised and trained on their bowed heads until Clarke places her hand on his wrist and pushes his arm down. “I don’t think they’re a threat.”

“This could be a trap,” he whispers back. 

A gesture of weakness like this is just the type of sneaky thing that grounders would do to lull their enemy into a false sense of security before attacking them. Bellamy keeps his finger on the trigger, ready to aim and shoot if needed. He takes a half step in front of Clarke when a door on the hut at the edge of the village opens wide. 

The woman that emerges is unquestionably the leader. She wears a long flowing cloak that sparkles like the stars as it flows out behind her when she walks forward and a crown of what looks like icicles balances on her raven black hair. 

She stops in front of them, her eyes appraising and sharp yet kind at the same time. Bellamy feels himself relaxing despite himself when she bestows a huge grin upon them and bows. 

“Skaikru,” she says in a lilting grounder voice and then shit just gets weirder. 

They have stumbled upon the Falling Stars Clan and for the first time since coming to Earth, their journey from the sky is seen as a miraculous feat rather than a threatening invasion. These people see them as some sort of gods, descendants from their highest deities.

“It is an honor to stand in your presence,” their leader, Celeste, tells them, as they clasp hands. She dives into a tale of her people and what they believe and long story short, they think the Bellamy and Clarke and their people are stars that have shaken loose from the sky and fallen to the ground. 

And therefore, they must host a celebration for them. 

Bellamy and Clarke are about to decline, they have things to do and no time to be worshipped by some grounder clan, but Miller, Monty, Jasper, Raven, Harper, and everyone else is so eager about the prospect of having a fun night with people who have never once tried to kill them. Bellamy and Clarke share a look, weighted with a thousand things they don’t have to say out loud. 

It’s just one night.

They’re so excited.

And exhausted.

They deserve this.

We deserve this. 

With the barest hint of a smile, Bellamy nods once and the Falling Stars people erupt into a joyous frenzy. 

The Skaikru men are led to one bathing house, the women to another and that’s when Bellamy starts to finally relax. 

In the center of the bathhouse is a huge pool fed by a hot spring. Steam rises up, fragrant with vanilla, and Bellamy’s drowsy before he’s even done undressing. He settles into the water, naked with his friends and these strangers that watch them with awe-struck eyes. They wash up, scrubbing the dirt and grime and terribleness of their lives from their skin. One of the men from the Clan bring them some thick syrupy drink that tastes like honey and fire and Bellamy is feeling really good after just one cup full. 

Their clothes have been washed for them and hung up to dry. They are all given full-length robes to wear and fuzzy slippers and if he hadn’t been tipsy, Bellamy might’ve objected. The robe cinches closed around the waist, leaving his neck and a lot of his chest exposed. There’s also no place to carry his gun but all manner of worry has melted out of him during his steam bath.

It’s cold outside when they were escorted into the bathhouse but when they emerge, the center courtyard is as balmy as a mid summer’s day; what looks like a thousand torches have been lit. The robe is more then enough to keep him and the others warm warm; Bellamy even finds himself tugging the collar loose to let his skin breathe. 

There are long tables situated around the courtyard, covered in plates of fruits and dried meats, cured wine and sugar cubes; a feast for gods.  
Bellamy feels a twinge of guilt at the spread and all the work these people have gone to but he doubts they’d believe him if he tried to tell them about the Ark crashing to Earth and the fact that stars could never and would never be able to become people. 

He shoves away the guilt and focuses on the happy sounds of his friends, eating and talking and laughing, every sound suffused with the irreplaceable joy of being alive. 

Bellamy likes the easy way it lets his mind flow. For once, he doesn’t think about his guilt or his sorrow or the past or any of the bad shit. He looks at Monty and Jasper tossing grapes at each other’s open mouths and thinks, I’d do it all again for these idiots. 

It shouldn’t be shocking to see all the women in the same robes that the men are wearing but it is. The robes cut low on them the same way they do on the men and there’s a lot of skin that’s just downright entrancing in the glowing firelight. 

And when Clarke walks out last, tightening her robe over her ample breasts, golden hair clean and soft and curling over her shoulders, Bellamy almost swallows his tongue. There’s something on her skin and in her hair that glitters, incandescent under the light of the moon. 

She looks like she’s been cloaked in starlight. 

She catches his eye and smiles, a genuine one she doesn’t give easily. He doesn’t answer it, he can’t. He can’t do anything because all the waiting they’ve done and the excuses they’ve made to not be together are so stupid and he’s a fucking moron and he loves that girl whether she’s covered in dirt or stardust and right then and there he wants nothing more than her kiss. 

He’s about to march right up to her and do it, damn the consequences, but someone taps her shoulder and her sharp blue eyes turn away from him. He exhales hard, everything in his chest aching. It shouldn’t feel as shocking as it does but the breadth of it is what’s killing him. It’s like he’s never not been in love with her. It’s drowning and liberating and terrifying and calming. 

The feast begins and Bellamy finds himself wedged between two of the Falling Stars people, each one has a million questions for him. All of his friends are similarly engaged, telling stories about their time in space to their fascinated hosts. 

Clarke is garnering more attention than the rest of them, her effortless confidence radiating from her and it’s obvious to everyone there that she is their de facto leader. Bellamy is feeling the effects of that role too but he doesn’t invite as much camaraderie, huffing and sighing pointedly when asked the same questions for the seventh time. Clarke handles it regally, every bit the Chancellor’s daughter. She belongs in the center of it all and she fills the role perfectly, talks to everyone, shakes hands, exchanges cheek kisses when appropriate. 

When the dancing begins, to booming, lusty melodies, Clarke is led to out to the center of the courtyard by a woman from the Falling Stars Clan. Bellamy skulks at the edge of the dancing area, listening to the music and trying to keep his wits after four glasses of grounder wine, trying and failing to stare at Clarke as she’s twirled around in the arms of someone that isn’t him. 

“This shit is even stronger than Monty’s moonshine,” Miller remarks beside him.

Bellamy nods, utterly distracted. Clarke’s still dancing with the really hot grounder chick and she’s definitely having fun and Bellamy has an uncomfortable twist of jealousy and gratitude in his gut. 

“She looks good,” Miller says quietly. 

Bellamy blinks stupidly, internally blames the moonshine for his unwavering staring while he shakes himself out of his Clarke Griffin daze. He looks at Miller with what he hopes is an impassive face. “Who?”

Miller snorts and rolls his eyes. “You poor asshole.” 

“Come again?” Bellamy asks gruffly. 

“What the hell are you doing over here?” Miller asks.

Bellamy gestures widely in front of him. “I’m watching the festivities.”

“And what are you seeing?” Miller asks. 

Bellamy looks back at the people, his eyes immediately finding Clarke and latching on like it’s their one task in life. The gorgeous, leggy redhead grounder girl is still dancing with her, leaning in close now that the song’s slowed down, her eyes sharp and attentive on Clarke’s face. As he’s watching, the grounder girl runs her hand over Clarke’s shoulder and down to her elbow before tugging her in closer.

Bellamy coughs and looks down at his boots. “A party.”

“I see you fucking up,” Miller says. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Miller looks pointedly at Clarke and Bellamy follows his gaze and startles a little to find Clarke already staring at him, the grounder girl no where in sight. She flashes him a smile, bright and blinding. He must smile in return, he’s not entirely sure what his face looks like, but Clarke tilts her head, a ‘come and join me’ gesture. Bellamy swallows and almost nods and goes to her but just before he does, another grounder comes up beside her. This guy is built and tall and annoyingly handsome. Clarke engages him immediately and Bellamy ducks his head, any bravado he had a moment before evading him. 

“She’s looking over here again,” Miller whispers and Bellamy snaps his head up, just in time to see Clarke look away. “Go over there and get your girl. We’re all exhausted.”

“We?” Bellamy asks.

“Everyone,” Miller exclaims, drawing more attention than he had planned. “You are an idiot and she’s terrified and one of you has to do something before the sexual tension suffocates us all, so please, for the love of Jaha, go over there and kiss her.”

Bellamy shoves lightly at his shoulder but the words grip him, claws sinking in deep to his gut and not likely to let go. 

Kiss her.

The idea is paralyzing. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is, actually,” Murphy says, sliding up on Bellamy’s other side like a bad habit. “Unless…you do know how to kiss right?”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy says.

A nudge in his back makes Bellamy take a faltered step forward. He shoots the culprit a used-to-be terrifying glare but Jasper just laughs in his face. “Go on, old man,” he says, slinging his arm around Bellamy. He lifts his chin to where Clarke is still chatting with the crazy hot grounder guy. “She’s not into that guy and you’re wasting moonlight.”

There’s a long moment as Bellamy thinks about the way Clarke walks next to him on long treks so they can chat and how she always makes a point of saying goodnight to him, saves him a bit of lunch when he’s too stressed to stop and eat. 

“What if it ruins everything we have?” Bellamy voices his worst fear, the main reason he hasn’t just done it already. 

Monty shoves Miller aside and pats Bellamy on the back. “What if it doesn’t?” 

The grounder guy is about to make a serious move, Bellamy can tell with the way he shifts a step closer to Clarke. She’s smiling but Bellamy knows it, has honed the knowledge of all her expressions and she’s not really into him, as far as he can tell. Then she glances over her shoulder, catches his gaze and rolls her eyes and that settles it for him. 

Kiss her. 

Bellamy hands his cup of wine to Miller. “Hold this,” he says and as he strides purposefully over to Clarke, the boys, his brothers, begin chanting his name quietly.

“Bell-a-my, Bell-a-my, Bell-a-my-“

Bellamy flicks them off and they dissolve into laughter but it’s a bolstering sound and he lets the beat of it spur him forward until Clarke is right there and he shoves the pushy grounder guy out of his way with a quick “excuse me,” and kisses her. 

There’s a rousing cheer behind him as he dips his head but the moment his mouth brushes hers, finally, the world goes blissfully quiet, no sound left but Clarke’s sweet sigh against his mouth.

For no other reason than he kind of feels like an ass about it, he leans away, just enough to let her stop this if she wants to but her drink drops from her hand and the cold liquid splashes over his boots as she wraps her arms around him, guiding his face close to hers with clutching fingers. 

Exquisite warmth sweeps through him, blooming from where her hand curls tenderly around his neck, her thumb dragging down his jaw. He holds her close, threading his fingers through her soft hair and cradling her head as he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. 

Clarke leans back first, breathing deep once he’s let her bottom lip slip free of his teasing bite. “So, who do I need to thank for you getting you to finally do that?” she asks, indicating the still giggling boys that he’d totally forgotten about.

Bellamy mulls it over for a second. “We’ll call it a team effort,” Bellamy laughs softly into her ear before pulling her back for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always, always appreciated!


End file.
